And hungry. They awoke so very, very hungry.

She came to know the research team well, headed by the infamous Sage Darnel, though Levana was not as impressed with the old man as she’d expected to be after hearing of his genius for so many years. When she met him for the first time, she could think only of how this man had fathered a shell, and it took all her willpower to listen to his unenthusiastic explanations of the surgical procedures without making snide comments on his worthless offspring.

Meanwhile, the first carriers of the disease were sent to Earth. Levana had heard, years before during her parents’ reign, that some of the citizens from the outer sectors would find ways to steal away in diplomatic or reconnaissance vessels heading to Earth, or pay what they could afford to persuade a supply pilot to whisk them away, leaving their life of labor behind. It was a selfishness that Levana couldn’t fathom—to think that any of her people would consider only themselves and abandon the country that needed them.

Her parents had always turned a blind eye to these fugitives, perhaps not understanding that their society would crumble fast if they could not hold on to their limited labor supply.

But now Levana had a use for these runaways. As the strain of the disease was slipped into the outer sectors, each Lunar gradually became an unknown carrier, and their own immunity would mean they had no idea that they carried within their bodies a lethal disease.

It wasn’t long before the first case of the disease was reported on Earth, in a tiny oasis town off the Sahara.

It spread quickly from there, raging through the Earthen Union like a wildfire. Though the Earthens hastened to set up quarantines for the sick, it was impossible to keep it contained when the secret carriers, the hapless Lunars, stayed so well disguised in their midst.

They called the disease letumosis, from an ancient language meaning death and annihilation, a fitting name as no one who caught the disease survived.

Levana and her court called it a success.

She didn’t know how long it would take to weaken the Earthens. Years, perhaps even decades, before the disease became the pandemic Levana envisioned. But she was already anticipating the time when she would swoop in and offer them an antidote. She was already dreaming of how the leaders of Earth would prostrate themselves before her. In their desperation, they would offer her anything. Any resource. Any land. Any alliance.

She would try to be patient, knowing that the day would come. She would try to ignore the pessimistic mutterings of her advisers and their reports that claimed all of the new labor initiatives she’d put into place were unsustainable. She would not back down now.

Everything was going according to plan. All that was required was patience.

Nearly fifteen months had passed since Selene’s death when Levana was told that Dr. Sage Darnel, head of the bioengineering team, had disappeared as well. Suicide, some suspected, although a body was never found. Many believed that he had never recovered from the birth and death of his shell daughter.

Yet another talented scientist, gone. But when Levana was informed that this would not halt the production of soldiers and that all surgeries would continue as scheduled, she forgot about the old man and his pathetic life entirely.

The years passed. Her legacy grew. The rumors of Princess Selene began to fade. Finally, finally, Levana had everything she wanted.

Almost everything she wanted.

*   *   *

Levana stood on the palace lawn, watching as Evret chased Winter and Jacin around the lakeshore. She had finally relented to Evret’s friendship with Garrison and his family, and now they were a permanent fixture in her life, despite how much she wished Evret would befriend some of the court families. The boy must have been eleven now, a couple years older than Winter, slender as a twig and still as pale as the white sand he trampled on. He and the princess, to Levana’s dismay, seemed to have formed an inseparable attachment.

For her part, Princess Winter was growing up to be as beautiful as a love-sung lullaby. Her skin, a few shades lighter than Evret’s, was velvet soft. Her hair had grown into thick curls, tight as springs and glossy as high-polished ebony wood. She had her mother’s eyes, caramel, but with flecks of gray and emerald taken from her father.

Whispers were beginning to circulate. Whereas before, members of the court had mocked the idea of marrying a princess who was nothing more than a guard’s child—now, moods were changing. Though still only a child, her beauty was becoming impossible to ignore. Such a child would no doubt grow up to be a stunning woman, and the families were taking notice.

Levana knew that this would benefit her someday. Her stepdaughter would be an ideal bargaining chip should the need for an alliance arise. And yet, the first time she overheard talk of how the princess might someday be even more fair to look on than the queen herself, Levana’s thoughts had surged with hatred.

Levana had worked so hard to perfect her glamour. To be the most beautiful queen to ever sit on Luna’s throne—more beautiful than her mother, more beautiful than Channary. No longer was she the ugly princess, the deformed child. The thought that Winter could so easily achieve what she had worked so hard for churned in Levana’s stomach.

It did not help that Evret spoiled her mercilessly. They were never together for more than a moment before the dandy child was hoisted up on his shoulders or swung around like a spinning toy. Though Evret refused to ever dance with Levana at the royal balls, she had caught him teaching Winter what waltz steps he knew. His pockets seemed to always be full of those sour apple candies the princess was so fond of.